At certain points of my life, I have asked the question, is there an omnipotent force watching over us, or perhaps even a god at all? None were answered but one thing is for certain that man (me) loves no one. Not even himself.

The school halls are always bustling, with laughter, gossip and idiocrasy. While I walk around careless, oblivious to teenage life. Ah youth, a curse. I curse my fate having to be around such stupid people who don't realise how rotten our world is. Who keep friends for popularity purposes, so they can keep a 'healthy mind and soul'. A pathetic excuse to be ignorant of your world. From the guys who e out at the girls, to the bullies who push people to their breaking point. Such a case has happened to me as well, so I guess I go completely unnoticed from now on.

The only time I hear my name being called is when I rank top of my class again for a test, or someone approaches me for help. Otherwise I'm happy not being associated with them. In such a prestigious school, I seem to be the only one who chooses to avoid the school uniform. Many of the girls wear it to cover themselves up, despite how short their skirts are. Just to be clear, that doesn't mean I'm a ert, I just seem to be observant a lot. While half the guys wear their usual clothes. Skin tight to show off their muscles, which ultimately makes them look like a gag. Or some preppy hipster style to express their personality, not accepted by everyone but honest at least.

People like that make the world a better place, unlike how some people cheat in tests and sports. In that case the only person their lying to are themselves. Idiots. So you're still here, I think you're probably still interested, cause if you weren't you'd have stopped reading already. Common sense from the writer's perspective. Anyway I am Allen. Just Allen for now. I attend a school full of people who won't understand me except for two friends.

That also comes later. Now back to the story.

I'm wearing jeans with colours wiping off like wet paint. The colours are now piled up rampantly, leaving a stringy white patch on them. They are heavy and slow down my steps at a minimal amount. Accompanied with them are two worn out shoes, that have a few holes and loose strings. They are made from specific materials that costed me $140. I guess I don't have a certain sense of style. So I just wear a casual half-length sleeve t-shirt. While my back is bent almost like a hunchback. But really it's just my habitual posture. My hair is slightly spiky and bedraggled but looks good, at least in my own opinions. The raven colour really contrasts towards my simple shirt.

My bag is also hefty as it is loaded with books constantly like 24/7. At least it's not on my back all the time, otherwise I'd be paraplegic. Any way I was expecting this year to be another normal year, where I wouldn't have to have had to interact with everyone. The exception being Jake and Dean.

I walk silently across the rowdy hallway. The hectic atmosphere just annoyed me. I guess it's one of my pet peeves. My footsteps remained slow and steady like always, large but graceful. That's a weird piece of description but hey I'm writing the story. I keep my face emotionless and walk through the bustling crowd I've grown to tolerate. I look forward around the murals that stay hung up on the walls as the legacy of the past students. I pass by them every day but it never gets boring. Art is an abstract subject that promotes use of imagination and philosophy. Yet I don't have the spirit to visit an art museum.

I'm always up late till hours like 11:00 on school days, yet I get the best grades. Even from the overachievers and infuriating perfectionist who gave me hateful looks when I beat them. It's been like that for 4 years since I arrived here from my old school. What am I doing up till such an ungodly hour? Nothing wrong, just watching anime. In Japan I'd be called an Otaku, but the terms aren't applied here.

The door to my class is open and everyone is huddled in groups talking about all sorts of topics I would rather find useless, tedious or indecent. All the girls are huddled in a group over one desk, giggling away at some useless rumour spread by guy who couldn't get the girl, or a girl that can't compete. Everybody has their secret that needs to be kept. But I'm never interested or curious in personal matters.

I'm going to be frank. I don't like people. Well actually, classify me as a misanthrope. I hate humans, and their corrupted selfish acts, because of that I barely interact and form friendships with people. To be honest, I have only reluctantly made 2 acquaintances in this school. My friend group consist of 1 remaining person and I want to keep it that way.

I walk around them and sit onto my desk. Getting comfortable and staring down at a novel I had brought along to keep myself occupied in the morning. It's a great novel written by Vladimir Nabokov. If you have heard of the book Lolita, it's a great story that talks upon personal matters at a time where society refused to be associated with such indecent topics. I shouldn't spoil the story so you should go read it yourself.

While my eyes scanned through the words, the bell rang. I closed my book after reading 4 pages. The teacher sat up from the desk tiredly and pulled out his leather green notebook from the compartment of his desk ready to call out the names of who's present. He looked drugged or more appropriately suffering from insomnia. His eyes were red and nearly bloody, while dark circles became more apparent under his eyes than usual. His beard was still unshaved but premature and stiff. His tie seemed to be hanging around his neck while the top button of his shirt remained loose. His usual look, the hot mess.

"Allan" He called out drearily. Being aware that I'm not the first one in the roll, I looked towards him in a non-hostile way. "Sit properly" The whole class turned to see my sitting position. One leg up on the seat making my knee visible over the tip of the desk. "Don't be a smartass," He smiled briefly and let me be. The class then diverted their attention back to the teacher who resumed his role call.

While he was at it, I began to fumble with my bag and take out my respective learning material. The first class was literature, led by Mr Barc, a specialist who studies and teaches the course himself. I dumped my textbooks on my desk without much of a noise.

"I know Allen is here," He whispered under his breath as he ticked off my name in the list. The teachers are always aware of me since I'm a natural genius. Most of the people who come second and third are just lucky people who had an interest in the topic or subject. Coming to such a prestigious school does not have to make smart students it has to make successful ones. I'm lucky since I came here on scholarship, when submitting a boring story about why I love my community.

He dumped the leather book into his desk and leaned on the whiteboard.

"Okay class, today we're gonna learn the history behind the great writer, John Steinbeck," He clasped his hand on the edge where the markers were sitting. The class gave out a small unnoticeable sigh as those words rolled out.

"He lived through the great depression and used it as the basis for his novels such as the one we're studying that you should have brought. The Grapes of Wrath," He looked around the room sheepishly at the sniggering idiots in the back. "Hey Christopher, you can laugh your face off at the dean's office, so shut it," He barked calmly. The sniggering died down to a minimal but did not die. Just as expected.

In front of them sat a girl, that I failed to recognize. Deducing that she was new I ignored her, she'll probably end up with the rest. The dying and apocalyptic environment of high school. Like any other high school, no survivors. She was a brunette, leaning on her desk and listening attentively to the teacher's notes. Scribbling away on a refill sheet. She seemed to be a fast writer too. I then diverted my attention to the teacher again and begin to jot down the notes as he blabbered on and on.

I was writing for 30 minutes, when my fingers began to resemble a dull ache. I let my pencil down and stretched my fingers fast. I looked up at the strange yet mystifying girl. She was writing away still, without showing any signs of boredom or hand cramping. Truly amazing, it's not like I liked the girl but she was definitely different. Especially the fact she can write so fast for long periods of time.

"So did you get that?" he asked in the end. The glass gave a hectic answer in a bored fashion, some yes's and no's. I didn't mind I was going to ace the assignment anyway. I began staring out the window as a slow but unintelligible conversations began to take place in the classroom. The trees danced in the wind while the clouds gracefully scouted the sky. The view was absolutely spectacular and breath taking, sometimes the most beautiful things are so very close to you. I began to zone out when the teacher clapped and forced me back into reality.

"Stop dozing off, or you're gonna lose top position in class," He advised in a serious tone, that I myself was unaware of.

As in never...

I thought to myself as he turned around to his computer to start up a presentation. A golden rimmed computer that would cost around $3000. He always brought a lot of new top of the line technology, recently got the newest smartphone model which cost him $2400. I regularly ponder if he has a second job to allow him to buy such expensive assets. He tapped a few buttons and started up the projector for the presentation.

The class had begun talking again, reintroducing the hectic atmosphere I absolutely despise. I brought up the tip of my pen between my teeth and began to chew it. Biting on it lightly while the dim screen began to fade into view. From the view a dull silhouette of the words 'John Steinbeck' became visible.

One-hour later class ended. It felt like a few minutes to me mostly because I was preoccupied with my vivid and intense imagination sessions where my creativity would run free. Nobody can tell if I'm dozing off or not because my face barely changes from its bored expression.

Interval was a drag. I found myself alone again at the grassy fields near the gate. It was a quiet place where I could think properly and wouldn't have to talk to anyone. It was behind the school buildings where not many people came, unless bullies who wanted to pick a fight. I was quietly drinking a carton of milk whilst enjoying the simplistic view gifted from mother nature. Did I mention I was a milkaholic? I don't even know if it's a word. I drink milk too much like 4 times a day. I finish 2 litres in 3 days on average. Lucky for my parents, I buy my own milk after they realized my subsequent addiction.

Crunch. It was the crunch of a leaf that appeared to have been created from behind my field of vision. Careless I didn't want to look, I would see some other face and stare awkwardly, forcing myself to start a conversation. But what if the short chance this was a twisted sociopath? I slowly turned my head around to be casual and spotted a few strands of brunette hair around the ring of the tree I was leaning on.

I quickly threw my empty carton into my lunchbox and packed up ready to go to next class.

The hair was long so it's probably a girl

I thought as I walked with my backbreaking bag. I had a long way to walk since I chose this to be my eating spot for the year. Unless the girl claimed it, I would be forced to evacuate to an area with similar conditions to that one. But knowing that she was knew and was probably going to be popular I doubted that she was going to be eating there alone for long.

Next class - drumroll please. P.E! One of my favourites. Despite not being extremely sporty, I am gifted enough to be considered an athlete. Most of the time I would target the good ones, as they will be my primary challenge, every lesson. So I went to the changing rooms and began to change fast before any of the idiots came and began making inappropriate conversations like they usually do.

I get changed in like a minute and amble into the gym, bored but expecting an interesting session. P.E the only class where all my frustration and anger can diffuse into a neutralized and non-hostile state. The teacher is there in his laptop- his name is Mr. Haul. He is well known for being the most lenient and fun to be around teachers. A few minutes of sitting on the bench more guys come out in their gear and grab basketballs to dribble and throw around which happens every lesson.

I sit there bored and uninterestingly. I never casually play around with one of the basketballs. More girls start to come out of the changing rooms in their gear, including the brunette who I thought sat behind the same tree as me. I can see her face now.

Her features are all apparent and bold. Her lips are thin and pretty, with a reflective gloss on them. Out of all the features what stood out to me the most were her eyes. Her eyes were intense blue, like shards of broken sapphire. I stood there in awe as I observed her. She was thin and appears to be unarguably athletic. Though her wrists appeared to have a bright tinge of colour on them, like paint or whatever makeup girls use.

"Hey, its Allan!" Mr Haul looks up at me. Im talked a lot about in the staffroom I assumed because nearly all the teachers know me.

"Howdy sir," 'Howdy' was my usual greeting. I always said 'howdy' to anyone who spoke to me.

"Pro tip, don't be a smart ," He flashed a devilish smile.

Boy what a great start!

I sarcastically thought. I placed my elbow on my knee and began to look the other way as he began to resume his work. The gym was large and spacious, with comfortable seats for parents who came to watch sport games between schools. The was also one of those electric scoreboards a lot of high schools had. The gym was naturally hectic so I had no problem listening to their noise amidst the heavy bouncing of basket balls. I sat there for a few minutes or so before the deafening blow of a whistle lightly startled me. The noise grew rapidly and was subdued within seconds while everyone calmly began to sit down and listen to today's drills.

We did many drills from full sprints to backbreaking push ups. At the end of it I was sweating bullets but I ultimately felt livelier and better. I always feel If I haven't broken sweat in my P.E lesson, it wasn't a good one. We also had to do cross country practice, and the new girl did surprisingly well than I had hypothesized. I got changed within a minute in the sweaty and humid atmosphere of the boy's changing room, which always felt incredibly uncomfortable. As I bust out the door, I feel a cold breeze ambush my face and relax my muscles, purging my body of pain, and psychical depravity. Its lunch now and everyone is already outside in their groups. I walk around with my moderately heavy bag slung on my shoulders as I walk around the school, scouting for a new location for my comestible intake.

I didn't see the girl, around at lunch, while I munched on my sandwich. She probably claimed my spot now and is eating there all happy and musk with her new friends. Ha! Pathetic. I smirk as I rip off a section of my sandwich maniacally. I keep chewing thinking of philosophical theories and abstract concepts as what makes us human, and why things are as they are until a hand props up on my shoulder. It feels like a girl's, I immediately crunch up into a ball, and my sandwich into my lunchbox. Wait how can I tell, it's like a girl's? cause no guy props up their hand on your shoulder, and so softly too.

"What happened?" I turn around to recognize the future vice president, Jaqueline. Jaqueline the athlete. She's tough and head on with a 'no bull' attitude. Her facial feature comprises of slim sharp sapphire eyes, and a raised, bold cheekbone, while her dark blonde hair is curled up. My description in a nutshell, sorry. She slants her eyebrow in a confused state. I stare back, with my bored attitude, yet disturbed by her unmoving hand glued to my shoulder. She then shifts her gaze towards her hand and jerks it away before I open my mouth to tell her that very thing. Like every other girl she wears the school uniform and looks fine. Completely matching her personality, she looks like a megalomaniac dictator excited to seize power by becoming vice president. "The principal... He wants to see you," She bends down so her shirt is hanging and her chest is more exposed. I reflectively shift my gaze to her face which is uncannily close to mine.

Out of all the people she is the only one who can make me feel terrified, violated or nervous. She stands up straight and put her hands on her hips.

"Better go see him then," She turns on her heel and marches off. She could make a good interrogator at a police force department I thought as I packed up my belongings. I began to walk, to the office, exactly near my location in fact a few feet behind me, which would explain her ambush on my privacy. I push through the door, without much strength and walk through the hallway painted with portraits and artworks of the old students. I stare at each one as I walk down, each of them expressing a certain feeling. Artwork is also very intriguing, my favourite masterpiece is 'the creation of Adam' by Michelangelo.

I push through the heavy hardwood door, shaped from strong oak entering a room with another individual. I walk around the couch to the chair where she sat. This was the waiting room for meetings or discussion with the school principal. It's a spacious room with a rich and soft leather-bound couch and a complex business like desk at the end in front of the window with fountain pens and even a few quill pens. There is also a stack of papers like a stereotypical workplace comedy, but in reality those are all just student reports he's been typing up.

I take a seat on one of the chairs in front where a girl is sitting. She has dark eyeliner applied beneath her eyes with signature black clothing, making her look attractive with her raven black hair curled up like Jaqueline's. Her back is also shielded by a giant black coat, which hangs down despite how heavy it looks. She turns her face to meet mine.

"Hey, Allan... Right?" She greets. I didn't mind the fact she was unsure of my name; I wasn't an important person anyway.

"Yeah, that's right, what's yours?" I asked politely without any attempt to appear rude, or creepy. I guess that should count as an insecurity due to my lack of social interaction and experience.

"Anna" She smiles. I definitely have a weird vibe off her. She definitively was not like the other girls, investing time into light goth like make-up, and not wearing the school uniform. She leans closer with her smile, and mouth open as if she she's about to giggle.

"hey, if you had the chance to bang me here, would you?" She puts her elbow on the principal's desk. My instinctive conscious, certified me that she wasn't kidding. Knowing myself I answered

"Yeah totally, in a principal's office, with someone I just met" I answered sarcastically. She stared into my eyes and burst into millions of giggles banging her fist on the counter as she faced downwards laughing her head off. I stared at her awkwardly for about 30 seconds or so until she calmed down.

"Knowing you, I expected that, sorry I just like to mess with people the first time I meet them,' She smiled angelically at me.

I turned my head away from her bored already.

"Hey, it's just a joke, why're you so down?" She asked, with a guilty conscious. Boy, she just won't leave me alone I pondered in the safe haven of my mind.

"I'm just bored," I uttered in a monotonous tone.

"Oh," She replied awkwardly. Im always the cause for an awkward situation. Whenever I start a conversation, I end up with one awkward moment. It's like I'm cursed, cause it's such a putrid and stingy feeling.

"Sorry, I'm just not the type to engage in conversations," I muttered, with minimal jaw movement.

"Yeah, I know, Lots of people don't like talking to new people." She stated. I turn my head around, slightly more comfortable with her. She had enchanting eyes which you could stare into forever, dark like sweet chocolate; I guess the saying is true "the eyes are the window to the soul". Deep down, you could tell, she was nothing like the person her looks advertised.

"Anna the anarchist and Allan the genius" A deep voice greeted us from behind. I inched my head slightly to my left to face the principal with his face in the shadows, the light only exposing his suit. He was glasses with a strange hairstyle adapted to his raven like hair. His blazer was buttoned up and shoes were polished reflecting off a few objects. On his left, non-wrinkled hand he wore a Rolex watch, while on the other was a cheap ring.

He stepped forward exposing his face, with a joyous smile, whilst also looking at Anna through his glasses.

"Hey Allan go sit on the couch, I got to talk to Annie here," He sat down in his comfortable chair. He had real, classy style, the type of guy who liked fountain pens, suits and top hats.

"It's Anna," She corrected happily.

"I got a report about you," I had already stood up halfway through the sentence and was ambling towards the couch, Anna keeping me in her field of vision. The principal clicked his fingers and she jerked her head around instantly. "You've improved greatly in class, your grades are still at the higher end, but so is your behaviour," I slumped onto the couch, like an exhausted husband with an average white collar job.

I press my face into my hands and completely begin to ignore their conversation. My mind begins to wander like a hermit. I begin to strategically plan out the rest of my day, as their conversation ensures. After school, I will go to the shops and purchase a few gallons of milk, then I will then enter my apartment, clean my room, finish my homework, go out for a walk in the hot basking evening sun, meet up with Emma if I have time, help out her mum with chores or cooking, go home with some leftovers, watch anime and take a well-deserved rest. In a nutshell.

"See ya" Anna farewells, as she passes right beside me. I look up slowly and mutter an inaudible 'bye'. I look over to the principal exercising his patience with me. His face, is mainly expressionless and his fingertips are lightly pursuing contact making him look like an evil genius.

"Well come on," It feels as if he's taken the underlying tone of Hannibal Lector.

I get up and walk towards his desk non hesitantly, taking a seat sown while staring into him.

"Are you willing to take up the role as student council president?"

I was screaming in my head when I heard this. I hated leadership roles, especially the idea of having to co-operate with other cocky teenagers, who are willing to misuse school authority. High school politics compromised of power hungry people like Jaqueline, whom I mentioned earlier to you. It was a complex, psychological battle between premature adults, I couldn't possibly work with them.

"Why not Dean?" I instantly asked. He was popular, averagely smart and a good leader, often leading sport teams and clubs throughout the year. His expertise was no doubt beneficial towards the council.

"They want someone who won't criticise the rest of the council," He replied instantly. I immediately got shot down, but my pursuing intellect refused to give up.

"what makes you think I won't do that?"

"Because you never have,"

"Prove it,"

"120 students voted for you to be school president."

I was taken aback. All this happened right under my nose, how could I have been so oblivious? I bet that Jake was the one, who nominated me first and then everyone probably went along with it. It makes sense one I deduce my conclusion.

"120?"

"and counting" He took a short pause. "It's up to you now to take up such a responsibility, trust me it would be good for you school testimonial," He advised. My ultimate weakness, using my future to persuade me, it seemed to succeed nearly every time. I sigh and stare at him.

"I lack social knowledge and experience," I stated counteractively.

"It's your choice" he offered politely. Psychologically, adding that phrase to the end of something makes you more likely to accept their offer. I clenched my fist and looked up.

"Fine," I finalised. I never ask for time to think about something, I always make a decision on the spot. It's just habitual psychology.

"I have a hunch that you might be racked with a superiority complex, if you do, don't let it get in your way," he sighed. "dismissed,"

I stood up and ambled to the end of the room, picking up my bag with minimal effort and slinging it around my dependable shoulder. I walked out the room without sneaking a second glance.

A minute after I left through the office the bell announced the new period. I walked over to the last class, which was really boring. Mathematics was simply too simple, despite the complex string of variables and equations. The algorithms appeared to be too simple to be classified as a challenge in my opinion and high standards.

Around the lesson, I focussed my energy on trying to solve problematic and intriguing philosophical enquiries in my head.

Home time sprinted around the corner and I was already out of the school, in a minute. That's how I keep myself occupied, that way I'm never useless, whether Im too smart for my own good, or have too much spare time. The by-product of my actions will become of important in my daily life and overall understanding of my purpose, existence and life.

Sorry for rambling again. I honestly don't know what goes on in my own head, I kind of don't wish to find out either. 'Ignorance is bliss' - one of my 4 mottos.

Due to my lack of social understanding and experience, my knowledge makes up for that, allowing me to understand people based on actions, emotion, thought and complex personalities. It's also a known fact that people with a higher intellect quotient tend to have less friends, and of course that applies to me without a doubt. I don't consider people friends and I only have 2 acquaintances, Dean a popular reasonably smart and all-rounder person and Jake an even more popular and nice but lacking common sense. Despite my childhood I've only had 2 friends, two of them being girls.

One of them being Emma, the girl I mentioned earlier. I'm only hanging around her so she feels like she has a friend. It's kind of a sad story, but she was paralysed from the chest down, and has been at home for most of her life. The event took place around 10 years ago, when she got hit by a car. I'm unaware of the little details, as to how and why but I found it better to not ask.

How did we meet? It's kind of corny, like a clichéd rom-com or something. One time I was playing cricket with my little sister a few years ago, this was around 3 years after her accident. The ball smashed into the neighbours window, note- at that time I did live with my family, but I moved into an apartment to pursue my studies. When I went to get it, I met up with her mum, who was in the middle of cooking a meal for her.

I immediately apologized for smashing her window and promised to get my parents to fix it. When I was younger I was always the kid who said sorry for everything, because I hated the guilty feeling whenever I failed to compensate for my actions. I was so embarrassed and scared too that she will be mad but instead she smiled and said

"Okay, just get it done soon' I honestly wasn't expecting such a calm and collective answer from her, but it wasn't like I knew my neighbours well, that was probably the first time I met them.

"Can I go get my ball?"

"sure"

She began to lead me into the room, I claimed to have smashed one of the windows of. It was adjacent to Emma's, when I retrieved my ball, I saw her in the other room, on her bed with a meal watching television.

"If you wouldn't mind, can I ask you a favour?" She asked politely.

"yeah sure," I answered back.

"it's been a while since my daughter has met someone her age, would you mind having a conversation with her, five minutes should be alright?"

"I don't see why not," I was bored too, so I agreed without a hassle, besides I had never spoken to a girl before. She leads me into her room, the girl looked up at me with a happy look.

"Oh hi," She put down her fork quietly and waved at me.

"Emma, this is Allan, the boy next door," Her mother introduced.

Her face was the masked with happiness and a big wide smile, I myself had never seen.

"Hi," I hesitantly greeted.

"Oh, I think something might be burning," She exited the room in a hurry. Emma stood there with blonde hair streaming down her shoulders like waterfalls and brown sweet eyes.

"Hey, I smashed a ball into one of your windows, sorry about that,"

She gave a faint smile.

"Don't worry, if my mother has forgiven you then I don't mind,"

After some small talk, we began an actual conversation, where she revealed that she had been in a car accident that had left her paralysed chest down, so she was bedridden. She was still very optimistic about everything she spoke about, especially high school. She kept talking about high school movies and romance novels she had occupied herself with.

Our conversation kept on rolling, and I kept on listening. As long as I was there her smile wouldn't fade away. Of course I felt uncomfortable when she asked me questions on how it was like being able to play sports and such activities, because I didn't want to make her feel like she was missing out, So I tried to explain it simply as possible to her.

I was talking to her for so long my sister came looking for me.

"What are you doing?"

"Huh, what happened?"

"It's been like 45 minutes, mum's made lunch come on let's go,"

45 minutes, that's quite a long time. I looked up at Emma with a faint smile,

"Well, see you later,"

"Wait" She halted me as I stood up.

"Are going to be here tomorrow?"

I looked down at her, her smile had faded away once more.

"Sure, you are fun to talk to."

She smiled at me and waved goodbye, as I left her room. Ever since then I promised her I'll try to meet her once a week or more.

So part of timetable is go to her house, on Wednesdays, and talk to her, normally I'll bring her a gift, like a book I'll take out from the school library, for her to read, or movies I had time to buy.

I would also help out around the house, since her mother took care of her all the time, while her father was a very busy man, always trying to help his daughter financially.

I was already at her house by the time I had recounted the whole story. I begin to think sometimes, what would have happened if I didn't talk to het that day? Since I'm not a big fan of what if scenarios, I didn't bother answering the question and entered with a spare key, her mum gave me last year.

It's been 7 years since I have been visiting her at least once a week, so her parents trust me a lot now. Her mother would always be grateful she had a friend like me, to talk to too, continuously thanking me for every chore and giving me a few leftovers from the dinners we had together.

I personally haven't known her father well; I only did meet him once at Christmas 2 years ago, where he asked me all sorts of things and questions in an interrogating manner. In the end he ended up liking me, but I still don't know if he likes the idea of trusting me with their house key.

Her mother goes out for groceries 5 minutes after I enter the house to make sure she doesn't end up alone, before me, her father had to spend time at home whilst juggling important business matters. He thanked me for being there, so he could support his daughter with regular treatments. I'm unsure what type of treatments, but I guess it's got to be expensive.

The lights are all left on, for me illuminating the hallway to Emma's room. Sometimes we didn't have anything to talk about, so I will just take a nap with my head on her bed, while she caressed though my hair sometimes. It's not weird, we just got used to it after a while. Her finger are all paralysed so she has to rely on hr wrist to do it. Sometimes I stop her, and tall her to get some rest but she just keeps on doing it. If you think that's corny though you're wrong, it's not like we are on love, and I kiss her on her forehead, we have established boundaries also. When I asked her why she caressed my hair she replied with

"Because I might not get to do this again,"

I felt so depressed and mad whenever she said that. Sometimes she would feel extremely down, and talk about the things she wants to do before she dies. She's only been out of the house a few times, but she doesn't like how people stare at her and pity her for her disability, it makes her feel worthless, I can understand because I once had a broken arm and I hated how much attention I would get, and all the privileges, so I can understand her when she goes outside the house.

So I just sit there in the middle of feeling comforted and weird, while I drift off for a half an hour. Sometimes she would be crying when I woke up, when I questioned as to why, she never gave a me a proper answer always coming up with an obvious excuse. Maybe she just really likes to have a friend around.

So that's exactly what happened tonight as well, I was tired from my part time job I had as a waiter, a couple of blocks down the road in an old diner, I seemed to like. Sometimes the boss would give me a free meal for hard work, such as cleaning out the ovens, stoves, sinks, dishes etc. This week was like that twice since the sales increase dramatically around this time of the year for some strange reason. I have to admit though it feels nice to have someone caress you, it makes you feel like someone cares when your opinion of the world is pure one-way hatred. Humans were selfish creatures but people like her made me open my eyes and helped me realise there is just as much good to make up for its flaws.

She was always optimistic; I remember the one time I made her mad. I was really angry about this cruel world, where one person or the other is suffering from the hands of a demon somewhere and everyone doesn't care until it happens to them. I was rambling a lot that day, but then she halted me mid-sentence.

'What do you mean!" She scowled at me. I inched back a little, slightly intimidated by her.

"Nothing's perfect, you idiot, stop trying to put everything towards your standards," She criticized callously. "Do you understand how it feels to live life at all, if I was in your place, I would have been living to my fullest, but you are still unsatisfied by what you have," She slammed her palm into her face, while her hair shielded her from my gaze. "Stop complaining already, try and understand from my point for once'

I bowed my head down in shame, as she turned her face towards mine, her cheeks flushed and rosy. Since then I've gradually been changing my habitual state of opinions and outlook on the world.

"Hey Emma, do you want go somewhere this Christmas?" I lifted up my head as her hand slithered off and flopped on the bed. She was asleep. I quietly got up and went through the hall to the kitchen. Her mother was wearing her signature apron, cooking up a meal with an ambrosial aroma.

"You want any help Mrs. Keel?"

"Thanks Allen, can you help me cook up some salad?"

I immediately went to work, taking out onions, tomatoes, fresh lettuce from the grocery store, with some celery, coriander, capsicum etc. After piling up the ingredients I took out a chef's knife and begin to dice the onions, every time I do this, I have never cried, maybe because I cut them differently or because they aren't strong enough. Her Mum is steaming some vegetables with some rice being boiled in a standard rice cooker. She adds all types of herbs and spices, with some seasoning along with it. I manage to cut the celery and the tomatoes and eventually top it off with some custom made salad dressing they kept in the cabinet, that takes over a month to use.

The end result is delicious. Behind my apartment is also a vegetable patch, that I take turns tending every week with a few other inhabitants. Once their fit for harvest, we split necessary costs and buy our shares and repeat the whole process again. Sometimes I use those in the salad since they are always fresh.

The sweet aroma of the steamed vegetables tastes delicious as it sprints up my nostrils. Her Mum was an excellent cook, something I seemed to admire a lot. After 10 minutes the food was finished and we styled it up ready to eat together.

Strangely enough, it always feels like I spend more time in their family than I do in my own. I walk up to her room carrying the hot pot while her Mother carries the salad.

"Em, wake up," Her Mum alerted.

Her eyes slid open like automatic doors. She turned her head around to greet the delicious food. 

"Thanks guys, smells delicious," We passed around the plates and took out our proportions which were fairly similar.

"Thanks for the food!" She prayed before politely picking up her fork to consume her meal. I began to eat the vegetables with my fork first and take out lumps of dry rice. I do that until it's only the salad left behind where I stab the fork through several contents and eat them in a lump, admiring the flavour along with it. After that when we finish, her Mum takes in all the plates while I take back the pots which had cooled down by then.

Every week, it's like this. Her Mother then offers to wash the dishes at least, while I go and say my farewell to Emma before I go back to the apartment.

I always leave around 8:00pm. By the time I'm at my apartment its 8:15. I get undressed and take a long cold shower, letting my hair soak and my body feel fresh. By the time I'm finished everything, its 9:00. Im bored so I whip out my phone every night and just watch some anime shows, just to keep company. I do that for around 2 hours sleeping at 11:00.

That's my daily routine in a general way anyway. Tomorrow I'm going to wake up as the school council president, where I'll have to deal with cocky thinking teenagers, s, stoners, bullies, spoilt kids, weirdos and the list goes on.

Its sounds stereotypical, sure most of them don't exist at my school, but the point is, I'm going to have to learn to get along.